


careless

by popnographic



Series: Rarepair drabbles [14]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popnographic/pseuds/popnographic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisumi wants to cook Haruka dinner as a way to repay him for all the times Haruka's cooked dinner for the both of them. Things just don't really turn out the way Kisumi had planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	careless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/gifts).



> Dedicated to [queen bee](http://iskabee.tumblr.com) who tells me to turn my life experiences into fic. Well, she also said to turn it into _fluff_ , which I half succeeded with. At least I sorta did it...?

It’s been a bad day at work, to say the least. Haruka _loves_ the pastry shop, he really does, but sometimes he wishes he could just switch workplace for a while, get a change of scenery, new people around him, and something different to do than to work in a pastry shop kitchen and serve coffee to people all day. He wonders if maybe it’s the lack of freedom that makes his metaphorical wings itch, but also knows he can’t be picky. Take what you get, and be happy with it, basically.

He walks in through the door with a heavy sigh and barely gets out his usual greeting phrase in the same breath.

“Welcome home! Sorry, can’t come out right now, busy!”

Haruka frowns in confusion and maybe slight worry, as he takes his shoes off in the hallway to proceed further into the house. It smells amazing, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fact that he only had a convenience store bought onigiri for lunch. Well, his _stomach_ reminds him with a very aggressive rumble, and he walks into the kitchen to find out what that incredible smell comes from.

“You seem busy,” he comments and walks up to give his boyfriend a kiss on the side of his head. “What’re you making?”

“I’m _trying_ to deep fry chicken,” Kisumi says. “Because all you eat is mackerel, and we all know a balanced diet is only good for you.”

Haruka snorts. “Deep fried chicken is a balanced diet?”

“Hey, compared to exclusively mackerel, I’d say it’s a step in the right direction,” Kisumi counters. Haruka can’t help but smile at how concentrated Kisumi looks when he’s continuously checking the temperature of his oil by dropping a bit of batter into it.

“You know, long sleeves would be better when you’re deep frying stuff, since oil could sputter out of the pan and all.”

Kisumi waves him off with his kitchen chopsticks. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Haruka knows when to not push things further, and now that he’s actually tried once, all he can do now is back off. He can clearly see Kisumi’s struggling, and he guesses it probably doesn’t get better with him hovering over Kisumi like a babysitter over a kid who’s about to eat glue.

“I assume you don’t want any help.”

“I don’t. This is from me to you, for once. Go and draw or something. Paint me like one of your French girls, but… you’ll have to make do with a mental image.”

Haruka flicks Kisumi on the forehead before he exits the little kitchenette. “You’ll have to refresh my memory before I do.”

He almost expects Kisumi to follow him out and promise him a memory refresher once they’re finished eating, but is surprised when he doesn’t. So he does as he’d been told, or rather inspired to, and sits down with a sketchpad in his lap by the kotatsu. He smiles to himself when he hears Kisumi humming to himself in the kitchen as the oil begins to sizzle in the pan.

Allowing himself to get a little lost in his own imagination and the drawing that slowly grows onto the paper, he shuts out most of the sounds around him in the house. He’s able to concentrate and draw for about ten minutes before he hears a yell and a string of cuss words coming from the kitchen. Two things he never thought he’d hear from Kisumi, and that’s why he’s quickly on his feet and inside the little kitchenette, where he finds Kisumi by the sink running cold water over his right underarm.

“Are you okay?” he says with a little hesitation. Kisumi sighs, his shoulders slumping, and Haruka slowly approaches him from behind, not knowing what reaction might follow. The stove has been turned off, the oil no longer popping about in the pan. There are several pieces of fried chicken drying on a paper towel placed on a plate next to a cutting board with a few uncooked ones, and Haruka can tell Kisumi worked hard on making them look the way they came out.

“You were right; I should’ve worn a long-sleeved shirt.”

“Kisumi—“

“Is this gonna take me years to do as well? Just to be able to make you _dinner_?”

Haruka recoils at the harsh tone in Kisumi’s voice, even though he knows the aggression isn’t directed towards him, but Kisumi himself. This side of Kisumi is one only Haruka knows about, because Kisumi doesn’t like showing himself weak in front of others. And initially, they’d both been like that towards each other, as well. But with time came trust and love, and they both slowly tore down the brick walls they’d built around each other, and let the other in.

“You know, that wasn’t really all on you,” Haruka says in a hushed tone, softly embracing Kisumi from behind. “I didn’t say or do anything, either, when I definitely could have. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

Kisumi huffs in annoyance and exhaustion. Haruka feels the muscles in his arms tense, and lets his hands slide down to Kisumi’s clenched fists. “How can I not, Haru? How can I not blame myself when I went _years_ pining after you, and instead of actually asking you out, I stupidly enough just kept teasing you even though I knew you hated it. Like a damn kid.”

“Kisumi,” Haruka says, turning Kisumi so they stand face to face. Kisumi doesn’t look him in the eye. “Let it go. It was a long time ago. I’m glad for what we have now, what happened in the end. Aren’t you?”

“I am,” he responds in a low voice, sounding almost like he just got scolded. “I just… wish I did things differently.”

“I wish _I’d_ done things differently, too,” Haruka admits. “Can’t do anything about that now, though, so let’s just… drop it. Move on. And finish cooking the rest of these, because I’m hungry, and those look great.”

This time, Kisumi looks at him, and he looks a little doubtful. “You think?”

“I do. We’ll take care of your arm first, and then finish cooking.”

 

* * *

 

Now wearing a pink and light blue striped long-sleeved shirt, Kisumi returns to the kitchen with his arm taken care of and a few bandages covering the spots where he burnt himself, and Haruka lets him cook the rest of the chicken by himself while he reheats the rice and makes a simple dipping sauce to go with the chicken.

“So?” Kisumi asks when Haruka’s chewing on a piece of chicken. He frowns at Kisumi, disliking being watched when he eats, and also being pressured when doing so. He takes his time in chewing, and when he’s swallowed, he opens his mouth to give his verdict.

“It’s good. And I’m not just saying that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Stop beating yourself up over it, you _can_ cook, and this isn’t really the first time you’ve cooked for us, either.”

Kisumi laughs a little, sounding relieved, which relieves Haruka as well. “I guess so. I’m glad you liked it.”

“Next time, though, remember—“

“—to wear a long-sleeved shirt when I deep-fry things. I know.”

With a little persuasion, Haruka’s allowed to help do the dishes after dinner, and when they’re done, he thanks Kisumi for said dinner with a kiss on the cheek. (Kisumi loves the fact that Haruka has to stand on his toes to do so, and tells him so on a regular basis.)

“You know,” Kisumi says as Haruka’s about to walk away, grabbing his arm. “I’m still up for you drawing me ‘like one of your French girls’. How about after our shower before we go to bed?”

“You’re _still_ hung up on that?”

**Author's Note:**

> [radiodread](http://radiodread.tumblr.com) @ tumblr


End file.
